Wolf RPG

@Niamh 

Perdition had been accepted in Firebirds some time ago, and was eager to begin to make himself useful in his new home, but he was finding himself plagued by negative thoughts. The physical symptoms of being struck lightning still clung on every day, and despite not having to worry about starvation any longer, he now had other things to worry about. He didn’t imagine he’d ever be good at hunting large game or fighting off some threat to the pack if one should arise, what with the ever-present pain and muscle spasms that he suffered with. So, he tried to focus on things that he could do: He could fish; he could still track large game, even if he couldn’t move fast enough to take it down. If necessary, despite his moderate lack of muscle control, he could still throw himself in harm’s way if an enemy wolf tried to attack a pack member. 

He tried to tell himself every day that he could still be of use. If needed, he would learn other skills, instead. Perhaps he could learn the uses of medicinal herbs, or learn to track the weather, the stars. No matter what he landed on, he’d find a way to make it up to Firebirds for taking him in. He sat beside a small stream within the territory, finding the sound of the trickling water soothing.

In the wake of the summer rains, Niamh knew that the salmon would run, swimming up against the currents to return to their freshwater birthplace and spawn there. With their territory flush against a river, with several springs and brooks feeding into it, they were well-placed to keep an eye out and watch for the migratory fish, with their red bellies and arched spines racing against the current and fighting to leap past boulders, through rapids, and out of reach of the predators who waited for them. 

So she stalked along the stream's side, hoping to see some sign that perhaps they had begun to pass by. She'd caught a lovely rainbow trout not so long ago, and took it as a sign that the flooding had had some positive effects on their territory. While it had destroyed the majority of their caches, it had changed the flow of some of their water sources, widening them and deepening them to make them more ideal for the fish who now began to prepare for spawning. Niamh would be ready for them. 

But on her way upstream she caught sight of a dark wolf- who she mistook (from quite a distance) to be Phox simply because he was dark, and he lacked the amber hues that Towhee's pelt had. When she squinted, though, she recognized his form as being unfamiliar, and assumed then that this might be the lone wolf that her mate had accepted into the pack. She'd been told about him- and while she couldn't remember his name, she had been told that he was an unusual creature in that he bore scars from having been stuck by lightning. Having never seen such an injury before, Niamh was curious- and picked up her pace so she could get a better look at what he actually looked like. 

She chuffed as she approached, ears perked and eyes bright. It might have made her look friendlier, which was lucky for the male, as she generally had a more constipated look on her face. She tried not to make it too obvious that she was searching for gory scars and markings- which was actually quite easy, once she noticed the electric blue of his eyes against the flat black mask of his facial fur. "You must be the new guy," She said, and her lips flinched, as though trying to smile. "I'm Niamh. My mate, Phox, mentioned he'd accepted you into the pack." She explained. "Mind if I join you?"

Perdition flinched at the sound of the other wolf’s approach, which set off a tic in one of his shoulders. He gritted his teeth against it, trying to stop it from happening, but, like always, nothing helped. He simply had to ride it out. He had noticed, in the calm after being accepted into Firebirds, that sudden noises startled him more than was, perhaps, normal. It had taken much of his energy not to jump out of his skin at the woman’s voice, and the hairs on the back of his neck and along his spine stood on end. With an effort, he flattened them, and took a moment to compose himself before turning his head to look at her, fully.

He saw her staring at him, saw the way her eyes lingered on his scars before moving up to his eyes, then back down again. He turned his head away again. “No, I don’t mind,” he said, quietly. “My name is… Perdition.” He closed his eyes for a moment, against the emotional pain that the name caused him. It was a name he had chosen for himself. Perdition: a state of punishment after death for sins committed in life. He was still alive, but it was not a wonderful existence. He opened his eyes again and stared down into the water flowing past his paws.

It was a bit of an affront, to Niamh, to be so reluctant in accepting her company- especially for a newcomer, who she figured ought to put in a bit more effort when meeting one of his leaders for the first time. But, she told herself, she couldn't expect every wolf who joined their pack to be in tip-top shape, and given the fact that this guy had survived a lightning strike, she had absolutely no place in expecting for him to be completely sound. He closed his eyes after he introduced himself, and Niamh wasted no time, given the opportunity, to look him over and marvel at the way the wounds had healed in long, forked strips of greyish skin, mirroring what chain lightning looked like in the sky. She made sure to turn her gaze toward the stream, though, as quickly as she could- so he wouldn't catch her gawking when he opened his eyes. 

"Perdition," She said. She was unfamiliar with the word and its meaning, so the weight of such a name and what it meant to him flew through the wind between her eartips. When she glanced over again, he was looking down at the water's surface; he didn't seem terribly interested in her at all; she tried not to take it too personally. Maybe he was simply not looking at her because he knew she was off-limits, having already met her mate. Maybe that was it. That was reasonable. "After those rainstorms," She said, pausing for a moment- she knew she wouldn't have to explain the reference, as she might have had to, for someone who'd come from further away, who hadn't experienced the deluge. Perdition had been in the very heart of the storm, and had felt the intense beat of its pulse. "We oughta have all sorts of fish swimmin' up this way. You much of a fisherman?" She asked.

She repeated her name, which seemed to wake him up a little bit. He looked at her.

’After those rainstorms—

—he recalled with vivid detail the feeling of being on fire, the feeling of the lightning coursing through his body. The hours he had spent with his face in the mud, lying on the side of a mountain while waiting, praying, for the paralysis in his limbs to go away. He was still looking at Niamh, but his eyes were glazed over, looking somewhere far away from where they were sitting.

’—we oughta have all sorts of fish swimmin’ up this way.’

Perdition forced himself to breathe, forced his mind to return to the present. “Yes,” he agreed, simply. She asked him if he was much of a fisherman. He gave a small smile, looking down at the water again. “I… hope to become one,” he told her. “I’m not sure I can… hunt other things anymore. Deer, moose, rabbit. I’m not as fast as I once was.” He did not mind admitting it to her, especially since she was a packmate, and one of the leaders. She needed to know what he was good at, and what he was not good at. 

“On my travels, in between my… accident… and now, I spent many hours fishing, or attempting to. Fish are swift, but I do not have to run to catch them. I can sit and wait, and it only takes one quick action to kill them.” As he had spoken, he had been watching the water. A fish had begun to swim lazily towards him, and he lunged for it, suddenly, but missed. He came up, head drenched in water, with nothing to show for it. He turned to Niamh with a small, self-deprecating smile. “I often went hungry,” he said.

She didn't notice the glaze over the neon of his eyes. All she could see, while she gazed at the water, was the iridescent hue of sapphire orbs now directed at her, which she ignored and in doing so, allowed him to look at her...Not realizing his eyes were nothing but empty portals, for his mind's eye was fixed on the flash of pain splitting the darkness in a brilliant sweep of light. She watched as the surface of the water rippled, and recalled for a moment what it had been like to see the Northern Lights in the sky. They'd moved, she recalled, like fish, swimming in water- barely visible shades of silver writhing in the darkness. It brought a faint look of contentment to her features. 

She turned an ear his way but continued to watch the water's surface, as though willing those pale lights to appear- this time, in the form of fish. He seemed relatively optimistic about fishing, though he mentioned the concerning fact that he was not of much use when it came to hunting larger prey. "Ah sure you're still young yet, though, you can't be much older than-" She said dismissively, looking over at him- only to realize that perhaps he hadn't meant that his age slowed him, but his injuries. Those wounds lacing across his skin- they must be more than just skin deep. "Oh," She said, softly. 

He explained the impact that accident had had on his life, and she frowned- but not in disappointment. Her features showed empathy and guilt, having underestimated the effect his wounds had had on his mobility. At least they shared the same sentiment about fishing, though, which made her smile softly and chuckle. "True, it's hit or miss. But one of the best things about it is that there's so much less energy spent with fishing, and if you fall asleep, then at least you get your nap in for the day," She said with an almost amicable shrug.

Perdition merely glanced at Niamh as she came to realize what he’d been talking about when he’d told her that he could no longer hunt larger prey. There was no malice in the glance, however. He listened silently as she spoke of fishing, his face dripping water from his failed attempt at catching one, himself. He smiled at the mention of a nap. “Yes,” he agreed. And then, having said all he thought he needed to say, he sat beside her amicably, but silently. He did not remember much about his time before his accident, but he had come to realize he wasn’t very talkative. Perhaps it had been from all his time alone, wandering the wilds while searching for somewhere to take him in.

Nevertheless, he enjoyed the time he was spending with Niamh. So far, despite spying upon his wounds, she had not judged him for them, or for his lack of proper hunting abilities, and that was good enough for him.

"Supposedly good for your skin an' fur, though," She said, taking his short reply to mean that she was permitted to continue speaking on the topic. "Fish, that is. I known someone once, an' she lived mostly out on an island out in the ocean," She recalled, fondness creeping into her tone. It probably wasn't a story he'd be interested in hearing at all, but she didn't care. It made her feel good to tell her stories, and to have someone listen to her whether their eyes were glazed over in boredom or not.  She had yet to notice how present or absent Perdition was in listening to her. "An' she was like...Had the smoothest, prettiest, healthiest coat you'd ever seen. You can bet she mostly ate fish an' seafood," She commented. "But not them...Oh, what're they called," She said, and she paused. 

She recalled the day she'd met a strange, but beautiful wolf named Coelacanth. She wouldn't have known, of course, that perhaps the reason for Coelacanth's soft, flaxen coat was actually an influence of the dog genes she had in her, and not her diet, but ignorance suited Niamh just fine. What she tried and failed to recall was the name for the creatures she and Coelacanth had seen lying on the beach. She tapped one foot as she sucked on her lip and tried to jog her own memory. 

"Ugh. I don't remember what they're called. But they're basically like....Legless-fat-wolves," She said. "They have like featherless wings for arms, and kind of a fish tail," She explained. "You know what I'm talking about, right?" She asked. Surely she'd given a good enough description for him to be able to know that she was talking about sealions.

Perdition sat beside Niamh and listened as she told her story about a wolf who lived on an island in the middle of the ocean. How her fur was slick and beautiful. He smiled at the thought, imagining a gorgeous she-wolf splashing through the waves. He continued to listen.

He flicked an ear when Niamh could not come up with the word for a type of food. He turned his head to look at her, waiting for her to find the word, but she never did. What he got instead was the strangest description for an animal he had ever heard: legless-fat-wolves, with featherless wings for arms, and a fish tail. Perdition squinted at her, head tilting to the side, trying to put the whole description together in his head. His eyes flicked around, searching his brain for the animal that matched what she’d just told him, but nothing came up.

“I…” he began, slowly. “I’m afraid I… don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t recall ever going to the beach, or being on an island, yet I can imagine it, well enough. But this animal you describe… I can’t imagine that. What does it taste like? Does it resemble the taste of a different animal?”

Even if he hadn't responded, when she stole a glance at Perdition his expression made it clear enough that her description had baffled him. She'd thought it was close enough- though perhaps, she thought, she should have mentioned the fact that they also didn't have fur, and had beady eyes, like little, round, black seashells. On second thought, though, any additional details might have made them sound all the more incredible- and fictitious. 

Fortunately, whether or not Perdition believed she was telling the truth he certainly seemed interested enough in this unknown creature that he asked for more details about them. She glossed over the confession that he made, admitting that he could not recall going to the seashore. Had she recalled what Phox had told her of the male, she would have known better than to ask him if he remembered particular things- especially strange things- given the fact that his memory appeared to have been jogged in the accident. The particular question he asked, though, caused Niamh to lean back and laugh softly. "Actually," She said, "I wanted to eat one of them, but Coelacanth-" And her voice dropped off suddenly. In the middle of her phrase, she remembered. "Sea-lions! Sea-lions, that's what they're called," She said, relieved that she'd remembered. Saying the name "Coelacanth" reminded Niamh of the nickname she'd come up with- sealionacanth. "Ahhh, thanks, I needed to remember that. But yeah- Coelacanth (that was her name)- was really against eating them. I think they were like...Important to her family or something? But she begged me not to hunt them, so I didn't." She said. Squinting slightly, she flattened her ears and bore a devilish grin. "They looked tasty though."

Perdition continued to maintain his rapt attention to Niamh’s story. Her description of that strange creature had interested him greatly, and he had enjoyed imagining a wolf living on an island, frolicking through ocean waves. When the name of the creature—sea-lion—finally came back to her, he smiled, his sapphire-blue eyes lighting up with true joy. The smile vanished after only a few moments; Perdition was not really one for smiling, much. He sat and watched her, head tilted to one side, as Niamh continued on with what she was saying, his brows drawing together in confusion after a moment. 

“I find it strange that any wolf would… revere a lesser animal,” he mused. “All of God’s creation is beautiful, yes, but many animals are meant to be… well, eaten.” 

He looked up and saw her giving him a devilish grin, looking at him askance. ’They looked tasty, though,’ she admitted.

He couldn’t help the twinkle in his eyes as he looked back at her, and one corner of his mouth lifted, as if they were sharing a secret. “I bet they did,” he said, lowly.

At first, Niamh was inclined to agree; she too had been baffled about Coelacanth's plea to spare the sea-lions from being hunted, but as soon as Perdition mentioned the word God she stiffened slightly. He hadn't said 'high elk,' or mentioned anything along the lines of what the Kingslend wolves had cast as their deity...Though she was only so comfortable with religious beliefs, and thus was easily rattled when someone professed their faith to her. Rather than address that, though, she chose another route. "I dunno. I wouldn't call all creations beautiful-" She said. "But everything can be killed, an' if something's meant to be eaten...There's very little that will stop me," She said, with a hungry grin, casting a wink in his direction. 

While he had some drawbacks, Perdition certainly served as good company. His smiles were few and hard-earned, but she sensed that there were more within reach, once she got past the initial period of awkward small-talk. She looked down into the water, still smiling softly at the thought of eating a sea-lion, but saw nothing moving beneath the ripples of the water's surface. "'Cept these damn fish, wherever they are," She said, moving her foot to send a small rock bouncing across the ground and into the water- only to notice a slim, brownish fish dart under a shelf in fright. "Ahhh damnit. Sorry, I didn't see him before, lucky li'l bastard," She said.